


In Dreams

by ChelleyPam



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-28
Updated: 2015-09-28
Packaged: 2018-04-23 18:51:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4888003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChelleyPam/pseuds/ChelleyPam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>We need to dream.  Sometimes the dreams linger.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Dreams

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ThreeMagpies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThreeMagpies/gifts).



> _A gift to ThreeMagpies as a thank you for her own dream fic. One good dream deserves another._

He couldn't trust anyone. 

Before he would have said that he could trust Miles. Trust his brother come hell or high water. 

But then he had woken up with his brother aiming a gun at his head. 

He still didn't know why.

Sometimes his position felt like a chain. He wanted to strip off the uniform and just walk out. Leave it all behind and let his officers fall upon one another like jackals until one rose to the top or they all managed to kill one another.

The idea had merit.

“Okay. This is...different.”

A female voice. Unknown.

Bass looked up from his seat behind his large desk. She stood in the middle of his office wearing nothing but an old sweat shirt that was probably a size 3X on her size medium frame. Her legs, long and lean, were bare as were her feet. Dirty blonde hair tumbled down to her waist in natural waves. 

He had no idea who she was.

“Not that I'd ever complain about a beautiful, half-naked woman showing up in my office, but who are you?”

She arched a brow at him, amusement tugging at the corners of her mouth. “I'm Charlie, and I'm wondering why I'm dreaming up you. Or this place.”

That wasn't what he expected. “Dreaming? This isn't a dream.”

She let out a short chuff. “Yeah it is. You're too pretty to be real.”

The surprise of that response pulled a laugh from him. “Too pretty to be real. I don't think I've ever been told that before.” He rose from his chair, remembering his manners. “I'm Sebastian Monroe.”

“Oh, now I know it's a dream.”

“How so?”

“I've never seen Monroe, but there's no way he looks like you.”

He came around to the front of his desk, perching on the edge of his and folding his arms across his chest as he studied her. “Oh? What is Monroe supposed to look like?”

She shrugged. “I don't know. Old? Fat. Probably balding. And missing teeth.”

“Charming. Why would I look like that?”

“Because he's....Monroe. The jerk who runs the Militia and lets his men terrorize everyone.”

That made him frown. “My men don't terrorize. They're there to help keep people safe. They may have to be firm at times, but they're there to help.”

A golden brow arched in clear skepticism. “How is bending a girl over her kitchen table and raping her 'helping'?”

That hit him like a physical blow. “My men are trained not to do that. It's against the Code of Conduct.”

“Yeah, well, then _your men_ need a refresher course.”

He frowned. The last thing he needed was to have some half-dressed girl breaking into his office and talking to him in this matter. “How did you get in here?”

She blinked at him. 

Then she just...blinked.

He was looking right at her and she vanished.

“Hellooooo.” He turned around to find Charlie now seated crossed-legged on the top of his desk. Everything else on his desk now gone. “Dreeeeeaaamm.”

Bass boggled, trying to wrap his mind around it all. He looked at his office again. It was his office, but there were little things that weren't quite the same. There was a framed map, an actual Civil War battle map that had been used by Lincoln but had, sadly, been lost along with a lot of historical documents when they were burned for fuel by others before he and Miles could secure D.C. It couldn't possibly be there. That arm chair by the fire was perfectly restored, not showing the signs of wear that it did in real life. 

Looking around, he saw that this was his office as he would want it to be if it were perfect.

“I probably got you from one of those romance novels I found in the attic. You're certainly pretty enough to be on the cover of one of them. Probably got this place out of one of them, too. I bet I read about a room like this.”

So he was dreaming. And for some reason his dream included a beautiful woman with a healthy dose of sass. Just like he liked them.

“Maybe this is my dream.”

“Why would I be in your dream?”

He looked back at her. She was watching him with open curiosity. He let his eyes roam over her and smiled slightly. “Because I have excellent taste in women.”

That caught her off guard. Her cheeks colored a soft, rosy hue. He smiled at the reaction and decided that, if this was a dream, then...

“Hey!” Charlie slid off the desk and tugged at the satiny fabric of the soft blue negligee she was now wearing. It fell to just above mid-thigh and was held up by thin straps that extended upwards from the lacy bodice.

His smile widened. “Better.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, her hands coming to rest on her hips. A moment later she smirked and he felt the missing weight of his uniform and boots and an added weight on his arms. “You're right. Much better.”

Bass looked down to find he was now in a leather battle skirt and had no other items save for the Roman gladius in one hand and a shield on the opposite forearm. 

“So, you've been reading _those_ kinds of romance novels.”

She shrugged. “It's not like there's a lot of choices around.”

This was actually fun. “Then why are we in my office? Don't you think we could come up with something... more comfortable?”

The office melted away and became his personal suite, the bed wide and made up with snow white sheets.

Charlie shifted her weight from one foot to the other, tilting her head in challenge. “A little bold.”

“It's my dream. Why dream up a beautiful woman and put her in my office?”

“Correction. This is _my_ dream.”

“What if it is? Do you prefer the office to this?”

She hesitated for a moment. “I prefer something less... masculine.” 

The thick walls and heavy drapes faded away and were replaced with a sunlit clearing in a verdant forest. The bed changed from the heavy wood four poster to one of curving wrought iron with ivy growing up and over it. 

It looked like a scene from a rather wicked and adult fairy tale.

Bass grinned. “Sticking with the bed motif?” She blushed and he grinned more. He gently plucked her hands from her hips and tugged her with him as he walked backwards to the bed and sat down on the edge. He coaxed her to come and stand between his legs. “So, if I'm wrong and you're right, and this is you're dream, what were you thinking about before you fell asleep? What were you imagining that you'd come up with me?” 

“Nothing.” He arched a brow at her in question as he gently ran his hands over her waist and hips. “Nothing like that. I was just...wondering”

“Wondering what?”

“If I'd feel different in the morning.”

He traced his fingers over her curves. “Why would you feel different?”

She shrugged. “I'll be eighteen when I wake up. The age you're officially an adult. Shouldn't I feel different?”

“Wow. I dream up a beautiful woman young enough to be my daughter.” Bass tilted his head forward and raked his teeth over the lace of the negligee where it was already tented out a bit by a hardening nipple. She shivered in the loose grip of his arms. “I must be having a mid-life crisis.”

“It's my dream.” She sounded a bit less certain of that.

“Then should we discuss why you're dreaming up someone old enough to be your father?”

She frowned. “You're not my father.”

“Thank heaven for that.” He turned his attention back to the bodice of her gown. He closed his lips over the peak and laved it through the lace. His arms tightened, pulling her closer to him. He felt her fingers trace over his shoulders and up into his hair.

“Maybe...if you're that old...maybe we shouldn't do this. It might be bad for your heart.”

He bit her nipple with just a bit more force. A mild rebuke. “If this wasn't going to happen, why would you dream up someone like me? Why would I dream up someone like you?”

She swallowed. Her pupils were already wide from anticipation. “I don't know.”

“Don't you?” His hands slid down, over the curve of her butt and down low enough to slip under the hem of the gown and start inching it upwards. “Because the waking world can be harsh and lonely. But in here, in our dreams, we might have a chance at having something worth remembering.”

He watched her consider it, felt her fingers tighten slightly amongst his curls before she lowered her face to press her lips against his. He shifted his hold on her so that he could ease her around and down onto the soft bed.

The parts of the dream that were their clothes melted away, allowing them to explore one another without barriers. Her body was perfect. Lean and strong, the build of someone who wasn't afraid to explore and work hard, but with just the right amount of softness and curve. Bass covered her, stretching out over her without breaking the kiss. 

She tasted like fresh air and sunshine. Innocence and courage personified. To him it was more intoxicating than the finest wine. He didn't want to ever wake up from this dream.

She rocked beneath him, hips rolling as his hand trailed over them. “Open for me.” He whispered the words against her lips and she let her legs fall further apart in answer. The sound she made when his fingers parted her folds and began to explore was the sweetest music. Instinct made her respond to him as he delved into her with a long, talented finger, then another, his thumb teasing the swollen bud of her clit. In spite of it all being in his head, he could feel the sharp bite of her nails digging into the skin of his back and the wet silk under the pads of his fingers. He could feel the muscles of her body growing tight, her inner walls constricting around his digits when she came.

Bass smiled against her lips as he reclaimed his hand and pulled back so he could watch her eyes as he licked his fingers clean. Her skin was flushed. Her hair spread out in a curtain of gold against the snow white of the bedding. 

This had to be a dream. No real woman could be so beautiful.

“I think I'd be happy to never wake up from this.” He shifted his weight, taking himself in hand and guiding himself into her slick heat. Her body was tight and welcoming and he took his time sinking in until he was fully seated inside her. “I could stay here forever. Stay in you.”

She made a pleased sound, her hands starting to roam again. He captured her wrists and held them above her head, stretching her body taught beneath him and chuckling at the plaintive mewl that escaped her. His teeth bit her jawline with gentle pressure as he began to thrust inside of her.

“Please.”

“Please what?”

“I need to touch you.”

Bass rewarded that with a kiss, but still did not release her hands. “You are touching me.” Another slow thrust with his whole body rubbed their skin together from legs to cheeks. “And I'm going to keep touching you.”

He was faintly aware that they were still in that forest clearing and the soft kiss of air as a gentle wind whispered over the lovers on the bed. There may have been birds or the rustle of leaves, but all he could hear were her sighs and the wet, rhythmic sounds of their bodies moving in concert with one another. 

He was getting close, his balls starting to draw in. At last he freed her hands, relishing the sensation when her fingers dug into his skin as if she was trying to pull him even further into her. He levered himself up with one arm as he reached down with the other hand to find the swollen nub where they were joined and brought her back over the crest before allowing himself to join her.

Who knew when he finally let himself pull out so that he could roll onto his back. He pulled her with him, enjoying the weight of her body against his side. It took him a moment to realize he was staring up through a canopy of leaves and branches to a clear, blue sky. Resting on a snow white bed under a summer sky with a beautiful woman in his arms.

This was so much better than being behind his desk in his office, wondering from which direction the next knife would come.

“What is Charlie short for?”

“What?” She moved her head so that her chin was resting on his shoulder. 

“Your name. You know mine is Sebastian Monroe, but all I know of yours is that you go by 'Charlie'. Do you have a whole name?”

“Charlotte. Charlotte Matheson.”

~***~

_Charlotte Matheson_

The name jolted him awake.

Bass sat up in his bed. In his room. Alone. The sheets bunched and tangled around his legs, wet in spots. His body still tingled from the memory of touching her.

He had a passionate, very detailed dream about a beautiful woman, and for some reason the woman he imagined was, he guessed, his idea of what Charlotte Matheson should have grown into.

If Miles hadn't already deserted him, he'd probably try to kill him again.

He fell back against his pillows and licked his lips.

He couldn't get her out of his mind.

It had been thirteen years since the lights went out. Was it her birthday? He couldn't be certain, but he thought it was sometime this month.

That was probably why it happened. Too much whiskey and his subconscious teaming up on him to give him a little nocturnal R&R. Just a really good dream.

So why did he still taste her on his tongue?

Why could he still smell her on his skin?

~***~

The dream ended with such abruptness that it took her a moment to realign her thoughts.

Her body still hummed from release. Her center still had that pleasurable ache.

Her dark room seemed so dull and uninteresting after the dream of the clearing and the large white bed and the beautiful man.

Why give him the name of Sebastian Monroe? There was probably some very intelligent, psychological reason that Maggie could give her, but she didn't want to ruin the memory of the dream.

It had been a very good dream. Vivid and detailed and strong.

So strong that she thought she could still taste the whiskey from his kisses and smell him on her skin.

**Author's Note:**

> _Comments are my drug of choice._


End file.
